


On the Eve of Battle

by Leabbott



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leabbott/pseuds/Leabbott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All that Lyra Surana knows is that she cannot bare to live without him, not after everything they have gone through together. But when she agrees to Morrigan's ritual, and convinces Alistair to participate, is she prepared for the toll it will take on her? </p>
<p>Takes place the night of the dark ritual, right before the Battle of Denerim. It has a happy ending, I promise!</p>
<p>Originally posted to Tumblr here: http://loganplaysda.tumblr.com/tagged/on+the+eve+of+battle</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions

Standing outside the door of Alistair's room, arm raised, Lyra suddenly forgot how to knock. She stood staring at her wrist where it was poised a mere inches from the hard cherry wood that adorned most of Redcliffe castle, her mind racing, her heart heavy and thick and sad. This wasn't what she wanted, it was nothing like what she wanted. But they had come so far, been through so much, that she couldn't let it all end here.

Taking in a deep, shakey breath, she rapt lightly on the doorframe, gentley twisting the knob only at the weary "Enter" that sounded from within. And there he was, her King, her lover, her best friend, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, armor strewn across the room in a clearly exhausted attempt to strip it off as quickly as possible. He had changed into common clothes that didn't seem to fit quite right, adding to his weary state.

When he looked up and his eyes caught hers, however, there was a brightness that hadn't been there a moment before, a love that seemed to pull him out of whatever state he was in. He gave her his goofy, wry smile, the same one he had given her the first day they had met at Ostagar, and a pang went through her heart. "I see you can't sleep, either." He murmured. It was still early, the sun hadn't even gone down yet, but they all were trying to rest up as much as possible before tomorrow. He beckoned her closer, but she stood frozen, dreading the words that were soon to come from her mouth. His brow furrowed. "I saw Morrigan outside your room earlier, after we left Riordan, and the look she gave me...well, it was icy, even for  _her_." Still no response. "Is something up?" He asked wearily, standing. 

_I can't do this, I can't I can't I can't..._  Lyra repeated frantically in her mind, unable to meet his eyes. She wasn't even sure that, if she opened her mouth, she'd be able to coherently form words. So she did the only thing she could do: she stalled. She gingerly stepped towards the vanity where his pack lay, items strewn out across the desk. A few of them caught her eye: His mothers necklace that she had recovered for him the last time they were at Redcliffe, the runes and idols they had collected throughout their travels that fascinated him so much... he had kept him all. She swallowed hard before stammering out, "You cant sleep? Are you alright?" 

She heard him stand and knew without looking that he was rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had had since they started their journey. "Not really, no. All these men look at me, and...I see it in their eyes: I'm their king. Suddenly it feels so real." He sounded so tired, more so than before, and she couldn't bear to look at him. If she looked at him she would be lost. "But now you're changing the subject. This isn't about me, this is about Morrigan. I'm tired, but I'm not stupid." His hand was on her shoulder, gently turning her to face him, and she kept her eyes cast down, seeing him knit his brows in worry from the corner of her eye. "What did she want?"

She took a deep breath once again, swallowing hard. "Alistair, we...we need to talk." A pang of deja vu went through her. Wasn't this exactly what he had said to her after the Landsmeet, right before he attempted to break things off with her?  _Because you're an elf, and a mage. A King could never be with an elf or a mage, Creators forgive both._ It had taken everything she had to convince him not to leave her, that they should stay together, and Maker bless he had jumped at the opportunity to do it, never had he looked so relieved. And now it might all be for nought, with what she was about to say.

"Oh." He was silent for a moment, his hand falling away. "I guess whatever Morrigan had to say, it's big." He stood looking at her for a moment before pacing away, a bite to his joking words that hadn't been there before. "This is what I get for becoming king, everyone always brings you the bad news. So what is it, then? Rats running amok, cheese supplies running low? Come on, I can take it." 

_He's hurt, and he's masking._ She knew right away. He was trying his best to seem okay, but she knew him too well not to notice. With a sigh she stood from where she leaned against the vanity, coming to stand in front of him, one small hand cupping his cheek. Without armor he seemed smaller, but she was still impossibly small compared to him. He nuzzled his cheek into her hand, arms coming up to wrap around her waist, and she gave him a sad, loving smile as she looked into his eyes. "I love you. You know that, right?"

He let out a nervous laugh. "Maker, could you make it sound more ominous? Tell me already." He looked at her expectantly, and she could feel his pulse beating faster against her chest. Her hand drooped from his fact, coming to rest on his chest in front of her where she studied them hard. How does one even say this?  _Yes I'd like you to sleep with my best friend, the woman you can't stand, so you can father her child so that we don't have to die tomorrow._ Easy, right?

So she decided to ease into it, give him the benefits before the drawbacks. "What if I told you there was a way to avoid dying tomorrow?"

It took him a moment. "Oh. You mean with the archdemon, right?" She felt his gaze on her, felt his brow furrow without looking. "If mean running away, I can't do that. But you don't mean that, do you? What is this about?"

She bit her lip, closing her eyes as she said the next words. "I need you to take part in a magic ritual."

"Oh? Something Morrigan cooked up, no doubt." He laughed, but when she only looked away, he quieted. "What do you need me to do?" There was so much devotion in his voice, so much blind trust that it near stabbed her through the stomach. He was willing to do it even without knowing what it was. But he had to know, and his reaction to her next words would decide their fate.

She looked him in the eyes. She knew she owed him that. "You need to sleep with her."

The laugh that erupted from his throat, however, was definitely not what she had expected. "Cute. This is payback, right? For all the jokes? For what I said after the Landsmeet? I must admit this is pretty good." When she wouldn't meet his gaze however, he faltered, and his hands fell away. "But...you're not joking. You're actually serious." He took a step back, then laughed again, but this time with more force, as if he were choking it out. "Wow. Be killed by the archdemon or sleep with  _Morrigan_ , how does someone make that kind of choice?" Silence on her end, and his voice grew quiet. "You're not actually asking me this, are you? What kind of ritual is this, anyways?"

She was wrong before. If anything were to define their fate, it would be how he reacted to what she was about to say. She wrapped her arms around herself, bracing. "I won't lie to you. It will produce a child."

" _WHAT?!"_ His voice boomed through the room, incredulous and angry, and she took a step back. She had never been scared of him before, but his face morphed into an almost snarl and her heart jumped into her throat. "I...I must be hearing things, but are you telling me to  _impregnate_  Morrigan in some kind of magical sex rite?" He was being impossibly loud, and Lyra wanted to tell him to keep his voice down, but he hammered on, pacing angrily throughout the room. "This...child... Why would Morrigan want such a thing? Does she want an heir to the throne?"

Lyra swallowed hard. This wasn't going well. "I think she wants to create some kind of Old God."

"Oh, and that is  _so_  much better, don't you think? And here I was worried about creating some kind of  _bastard_  heir and didn't even consider that it might be some kind of dragon...god...whatever!" He was even angrier now, and the word  _bastard_  cut through her like a knife. But as much as she hurt for him, it also made her angry.

"Well do  _you_  have any better ideas?!" She exploded at him, walking up to his face so he couldn't look away. "Unless you want one of us to die tomorrow, this is our only option!" Her words were flaming but her eyes pleaded with him. "There are no good options, Alistair. There haven't been since Ostagar. And I can't lose you again." Her voice softened, her face falling as she remembered how resigned he was to having to leave her before she pulled him back from the edge. But everything they had had, the life they dreamt of building together, would be for nothing if they faced the archdemon without this ritual tomorrow. 

He glared at her hard, but gradually the anger melted from his face, and he looked away. "Look...even if I  _were_  willing to entertain this idea, and I'm not saying I am..." He took a deep breath before cupping her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks gentley with his thumbs as she leaned into them. "Is this  _really_  what you want me to do?"

Biting her lip as he searched her face, Lyra knew what she wanted to say was different from what she had to. Did she want him to sleep with Morrigan? Absolutely not, the thought made her feel sick and jealous and like their post-Landsmeet conversation all over again. But he  _had_  to do it, if they were to have their future like they planned, however short it would be. She couldn't bare the thought of losing him, or the thought of leaving him alone with a crown he didn't want and a kingdom he didn't know if he could handle. Finally she found her words. "You need to trust me."

He gave her a resolute nod, stepping back and rubbing his neck once more. “Alright. I trust you.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he turned towards the door, and Lyra felt herself sinking. “Let’s get this over with before I…change my mind.”


	2. Promises

It wasn’t until Lyra stepped out of the room for Morrigan and Alistair to have their privacy that she realized they were in  _her_ room.  _Fantastic. Good job, Lyra._  She should have remembered that it was her room before she left, but in truth she hadn’t even planned on sleeping there tonight. That had changed, though. Exhaling shakily, she leaned against the wall, feeling as though her legs would no longer carry her as she squeezed her eyes shut.  Alistair had had such a disgusted look when they had greeted Morrigan, and it was she that put it there. And for what? All to preserve some unpromised future they hadn’t even spoken about, one that existed only inside her own mind. 

"Stupid, stupid, stupid…" She murmured to herself, arms wrapping around her sides as she stared at the floor. She could hear sounds from inside the room, barely audible but there, and though all she wanted was to drown them out she couldn’t bring herself to move. Some morbid part of her wanted to know if Alistair was enjoying this, although most of her wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening. 

_Better get used to it. He’s a king now. No matter what he said after the Landsmeet, he was right: he’ll need a queen, and an heir._ She mentailly tortured herself. Despite everything that had happened between them, she was sure duty to his kingdom would win out over her eventually. And what did she expect? Had things been different, had he been raised as a prince and she never been a mage, they never would have met. No, she would be the servant in the kitchen of his palace, or the poor elf begging for charity in the slums of the Denerim Alienage. He never would have so much as looked at her. Their love didn’t matter to the rest of the kingdom: he was still king, and she was still an elf mage, and the two should never even be in the same sentence. The knowledge had her choking back hysteria rising in her throat. 

So lost in thought was she that she jumped when the door opened beside her to reveal a slightly disheveled Morrigan, who jumped in turn when she noticed Lyra. For a long moment they said not a word, Lyra staring at her blankly as Morrigan fought to keep her face neutral and not heartbroken at what she had had to do. Finally Morrigan walked down the hallway, and Lyra was left alone with her thoughts gnawing away at her heart, the hysteria returning. 

"Lyra." Alistair’s voice made her jump, and she couldn’t look at him, but rather looked down the hallway, watching Morrigan leave. "Lyra, look at me, please." His voice was soft, and it made everything that much worse. Without a word she slipped past him into her room, biting her lip to keep it from quivering as she swung the door towards the frame and walked towards the window. She needed fresh air, to keep the tears and the hysteria back.

The door never connected with the frame, though, as Alistair shoved it back open and walked into the room. “What, are you just going to ignore me now?” He accused, standing in the middle of the room as the door clicked shut behind him. Lyra threw open the window, leaning out as she fought to keep her shoulders from heaving. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “This was your idea you know, I did this for you. Don’t take it out on me now, that isn’t fair!”

She fought hard to ignore him, to ignore the sobbing bubbling in her throat. She could feel it coming, the break up speech once more. She had driven him, the one person in the world she could trust fully and the last person she expected to lose so quickly, to the brink and now she was teetering on it too, except this time it was her that would fall and not him. 

"Don’t blame me for something that you wanted in the first place!" His words came to her slowly, as if he were very far away, but once they finished it was if lightning had crashed over her and thunder shook her bones, and the floodgates opened and there was no holding anything back anymore.

_"WANTED?!"_  She burst, turning on him as she felt hot tears stream down her cheeks. “You think I  _wanted_  this?! You think I  _wanted_  you to sleep with and father a child with my best friend before you and I even had the chance? If you think I actually wanted that, then you are sorely mistaken!” Her shoulders heaved and she took in deep gulps of breath as the hysteria washed over her, fists clenched and knuckles white.

And he met her rage, stepping forward. “ _You didn’t want it?_ Then why in Maker’s name did you have me  _do it?_  I told you-“

“ _I know what you told me!_ I know what you asked me! And w-what did I tell you, Alistair, do you remember? I said  _there are no good choices anymore._ I didn’t have a choice here. Morrigan’s choice was the only one, because I couldnt stand the thought of l-losing you tomorrow or leaving you forever!” Her voice raised two octaves as she practically screeched at him through her tears. “There have been no good choices to make since Ostagar! I didn’t want any of this! I didn’t want the r-responsibility of an entire country on my back, I didn’t w-want you to have to be King —”

“ _Excuse me?”_  His voice was deathly quiet. “Did you just say you didn’t want me to have to be king? Then why in sodding hell did you  _make me King?_ " He was seething with rage, she could tell, and by now she was in full-blown, angry hysterics.

"B-because you told me t-to!" She shot back, unable to speak without stammering through her sobs. "I had p-promised Anora to s-support her so that y-y-you wouldn’t have to bear that b-burden, but then y-you,  _you_  told me to m-make you K-King! I thought that was what you w-w-wanted!” She forced the words out even though she could barely breathe, feeling hiccups rising in her throat to join the sobs and heaves. “H-had I known it meant w-we c-couldn’t be t-t-together, I would never h-have… I n-never wanted  _a-any_  of t-this!” She felt dizzy, like she was about to pass out, but still the tears came, unceasing. “I d-didn’t want to choose the K-King or r-raise armies or f-f-fight w-wars or watch everyone d-die or l-leave the Circle or b-betray Jowan or-or-or —” And then his arms were enveloping her, and her knees gave out, and he lowered them gently to the floor as sobs and hiccups wrapped her body. Clutching at his jerkin, she let everything out, barely hearing the soothing words and hushes he whispered into her hair as he stroked her back.

Finally her body quieted, shaking only slightly in his grasp, and it was only then that he spoke. “You know, I guess I never realized, but you’ve never cried in front of me before.” His fingers stroked her neck, her cheek, gently across her eyes and down her arms. “You’ve seen me tear up probably over a hundred times by now, over Duncan and Cailan and Arl Eamon, over my past… and you’ve never shed a tear in front of me. You’ve held it all in, all this time. I guess I never realized you might need to let it out.” His words were quiet and full of sadness and love at the same time. “You’re so strong, Lyra, the strongest person I know. But you don’t have to be, not all the time.” 

Her lip trembled but no tears came, she had exhausted her supply completely. Not trusting her voice, she only nodded, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

"Why haven’t you spoken to me about this before? You know you can always tell me anything." He asked gently, unrelentng in his soothing caresses. 

It took a long time for her to find her voice, and when she did, it was raspy and quiet. “I… I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to bring it up. I was… afraid, that if I expressed doubt, everyone else, everyone who for some strange reason chose me as their leader, would doubt me too.” She felt Alistair nod against the crown of her head, but he said no more, and she was glad for it.

Her eyes began to droop closed, and she was on the brink of sleep when she remembered their conversation after the Landsmeet, remembered the argument she had had with herself outside of her room while Morrigan and Alistair lay together, and it jolted her out of her rest with a pang. Alistair felt her jolt and quickly looked down at her. “Shh, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

She had to say it, she couldn’t keep it in much longer, not without risking another episode like tonight. “Promise me you won’t leave me.” She blurted, head jerking back to look him in the eyes, her own no doubt still swolen and red. 

He looked incredibly taken aback at first, but then his expression faltered into brokenness, hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Why would I leave you?” His brow furrowed, and she glanced away quickly, embarrassed. Her lip was trembling more now, because that wasn’t a promise, and she wasn’t sure she was going to get it.

"B-because I’m an elf, and a mage, and… and you already told me in front of the entire Landsmeet that Ferelden would never accept me as Queen, and… I know I told you I was fine with whatever decision you would have to make as King, but… I wouldn’t be able to do it, Alistair. I wouldn’t be able to sit by and watch you marry and have children and grow old with some noblewoman who only wants you for your title. I can’t do that, I can’t  _be_ the other woman. It would kill me inside. Just those few minutes tonight was bad enough…” She trailed off, untucking her hair to hide her ears, suddenly becoming conscious of their points. Because that was the issue, really, her race and all the characteristics that portrayed it. Had she been human she might have been able to get away with being a mage and being Queen, after all Alistair  _was_  a templar, but being an elf was just too much…

Calloused fingers retucking her hair behind her ears brought her back to reality, and her watery eyes met his. “Lyra, I…”  _Here it comes._  She thought. “I am so,  _so_  sorry.” His forehead pressed gently to hers as he squeezed his eyes shut, and she held her breath tightly, fighting the welling of tears in anticipation for what he was about to say. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you at the Landsmeet, I didn’t mean to… Maker’s breath, I’m such an  _idiot!”_  He cursed himself, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Fereldan be damned, Lyra. I love you. I meant it that night when I said you were the first woman I had been with, and if I had my way you were to be my last.” He stopped abruptly, thinking back to just an hour earlier in this very room, with Morrigan, and he grimaced at the thought. “That may not be so true now, but if I have my way as King, I will never lay with another woman again.” Gently, he wiped one of the tears that slowly slid down her cheeks. “I don’t care that you’re an elf, or a mage — no, that’s not right — I  _love_  that you’re an elf, and a mage. It’s what makes you, you. You’re the strongest, most inspiring, most beautiful woman I have ever known and ever will know, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. I never thought I would know love, not until I met you. And I’d rather die tomorrow than be with anyone else.” Tears fell down her cheeks unbidden now, and he kissed them away, nuzzling her nose with his.

She was so relieved, and so happy, that she threw her arms around his neck and burried her face in his pulse, kissing it lightly as her fingers threaded through his hair. Suddenly she felt very, very stupid. How could she have doubted him? They had gone through more in the past year than most go through in a lifetime, and he was nothing if not loyal. He had only not been loyal…  _Because I asked him to_. She finished. Anything she asked, he would do, and she knew that now.

Alistair suddenly jerking back to look her in the eyes startled her, and her brow furrowed before he blurted, “Lyra, will you marry me?” Eyes widening in shock, she found herself at a total loss for words. Was he being serious? But she could tell by the look of panicked desperation growing in his eyes that he was, and it took all of the self control in the world that she could muster not to say yes immediately.

"Alistair, I… Please, don’t make promises you can’t keep." She choked out painfully. He had already told her, in front of  _all_  of the nobles, that the country would never accept her as Queen. And tomorrow, after everything was all over, would he still want to marry her? Would either of them still be alive? “We don’t even know if we’ll both survive tomorrow—”

"And that’s exactly why we should do it! I’m not even talking about tomorrow." He pulled her to her feet anxiously, large, calloused hands engulfing hers. "I’m talking about now, right now. Will you marry me here and now, in the Chantry in Redcliffe. Will you be my wife?"

Brow furrowing once more, she bit her lip, not allowing the rising hope in her chest to have any type of hold. “But, you’re King, you can’t marry—”

"I’m not King, not yet. I won’t be crowned until after we end the Blight, remember? And all of Fereldan can go to hell along with the archdemon if I can’t have you at my side while I rule. While  _we_  rule. If they won’t accept us both then I just won’t be King.” He said the words with such confidence that she almost believed them, and she allowed herself a small, sad smile.

"Arl Emon won’t approve." She said warrily, unable to contain the feeling that  _this is real, this is happening_ growing inside of her. “And who will do the ceremony? We have no time to plan—” 

"I’m starting to think you’re just looking for reasons not to marry me now." Alistair joked, seeing that she was coming around. "Forget about Arl Eamon, I’ll take care of him. And Leliana is a lay sister, she can officiate, and I’m sure Wynne knows something about the rite, and Oghren will be sure to  _pretend_  he knows something about it!” His hands came up to cup her cheeks. “We have everyone who we could ever want here and now, to be here for us. Please, Lyra, I just… I can’t stand the thought of facing the archdemon tomorrow without knowing that, no matter what happens, we will always be together. That nothing, not even this damn crown, could tear us apart.” His eyes were pained as he said so. “I know marriage isn’t necessary to guarantee that, but… I know it’s what I want, and you told me not too long ago I need to be a little more selfish, so I am. And I want this. I want you.” He smiled at her sheepishly, suddenly unsure of himself. “So… what do you say?”

A smile broke across her face as she croaked out, “Yes.”

It took a moment, but then his entire face lit up and he nearly began jumping up and down like a puppy. “Yes?” She nodded and repeated the confirmation again, and again and again as he peppered her entire face with kisses before embracing her and spinning around with a laugh. 

"Maker’s breath, I’m so lucky to have you." He sighed as he kissed her deeply, but pulled away quickly with a laugh and a glance at the setting sun out the window. "The sun is going down, we should get moving. I’ll - I’ll talk to Arl Eamon, and the boys, and get things set up on my end. You go to Leliana and tell her the good news, and Wynne and —" He faltered abruptly, almost saying  _Morrigan_. 

But Lyra knew what he was going to say, and she nodded. “And Morrigan, too.” Her heart suddenly felt heavy, but she knew that she couldn’t get married without her best friend there regardless of what had happened earlier. “I want her there, Alistair.”

Alistair gave her a small smile, kissing both her cheeks. “Whatever you want, my dear. I’m fine with it if you are.” She knew he wasn’t completely fine with it, but he wasn’t going to deny her this, and that meant the world to her. “Now, I’m off! We’re running out of daylight. You too, hurry, hurry! I want to spend as much time with you as possible, but in keeping tradition I won’t see you until we’re at the altar. That is the tradition, right? Well, I think it is. It probably is. I might run into you anyways, but still. Right, have to go!” He kissed her between nearly every sentence before bounding out of the room, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his boyish joy. 

And then hers hit her like a tidal wave. They were actually getting  _married._


End file.
